


Miss the Marks

by Anonymous



Series: Snowy/Kent [5]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, D/s-verse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Kent Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 14:26:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14594973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Scraps calls ahead before he drops in, which is more of a heads up than Jeff Troy had given, and Kent's happy to see him. That probably means Snowy shouldn't want to fight him as bad as he does.





	Miss the Marks

Scraps comes off like a bit of an idiot. It's the only reason Snowy doesn't turn him away in a fit of peeve when he asks to see Kent, much less unannounced than Troy, because Scraps had at least called ahead to see if it was okay to drop in. When he shows up, Scraps turns out to be a big guy--seeming larger on Snowy's doorstep than he ever had on the ice--with a sort of gentle, anxious expression. There's something a bit tentative about him, like he's a guy who'd maybe busted some things getting used to his size and is now hyper aware of how fragile everything's become.

"Is Parser around?" he asks when Snowy answers the door, shifting his weight uneasily. He'd been on the team almost the whole time, and somehow missed what had been going on with Kent. Snowy'd love to blame him. He'd be an easy target, with his sorry expression and his hangdog awkwardness. He could probably throw a punch with the best of them, but verbal attacks would probably hit their mark and stick, unreturned.

"Yeah, he's here," Snowy says, and steps aside to let him in. Unlike Troy, Scraps doesn't dive into the air-conditioning, but stays where he is, turning the Aces hat that he's holding in his hands around and around, sliding the rim of it through his fingers. 

"Is he alright?"

It's quiet. Uncertain. Snowy doesn't want to deal with it at all.

"No," he says, and doesn't bother to add reassurance or some mitigating statement. It's cruel. He knows it is, and Scraps's face falls in response, collapsing into a deep frown, eyes going sorrowful and guilty. It makes it easy to hold things against him, the sense that Scraps might agree with Snowy's assessments if he were to voice them. 

He doesn't. He does repeat, "Come in, and I'll go find him."

It doesn't take much searching. Kent might be more comfortable in the heat than Snowy, but he also wanders semi-regularly back to where it's cooler, to hang out and play on his phone or bug the cat, or lean up against Snowy some place where Snowy won't immediately start melting and push him away. He comes back from wherever he's been just as Snowy's yanking the fridge open to get Scraps a beer.

"Hey," he says, sounding surprised but pleased, when he sees Scraps standing awkwardly by the kitchen doorway, on the dining room side of the open counter with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, hat discarded somewhere along the path from the front door. "What's up, Scrappy?" Kent sounds upbeat. A lot more so than when he and Snowy are hanging with the Falcs. "How've you been?"

He clearly expects something, but whatever it is doesn't happen as Scraps stays right where he is, closed off and pulled in. Kent frowns at him. Slaps his shoulder, then leaves his hand there as he leans over to peer at Scraps's face. "Are you okay?" he asks. There's a little edge of worry in it that makes Scraps raise his eyebrows. His expressions are all sort of comical, Snowy thinks. Not exaggerated, but just sort of really on the surface. 

"Yeah," he says, pulling one hand out of his pocket to return Kent's back pat, laying his palm down a lot more carefully and then lifting it just the one time before he lets it rest there. It's a weirdly light touch for such a big guy. It also looks like it's standing in place of a hug.

"Yeah?" Kent echoes, grinning again. He looks really happy to have Scraps there. "Is Vegas melting into the ground? Because it's been fucking scorching here."

"It's pretty hot," Scraps says. "I hear. I haven't been though. I've been visiting."

"Right. Right, the sister." Kent perks up more. "And the baby."

Snowy reaches a beer over, holding it out until Scraps pulls his other hand out of his pocket and takes it, then holds a second up in question. "Parse?"

"I'm good."

Scraps lifts his hand to pet him again, almost automatic in a way that makes Snowy thinks this is normal for them. Also because Kent accepts it in a matter of fact way, like he barely notices that Scraps is doing it, and without responding like he had with Guy. The Aces players at least had known Kent was a sub-- _Snowy_ had known about Kent, from that one season--but there's nothing particularly dominating about the way Scraps is keeping contact. It's just friendly. Maybe protective. 

It still makes Snowy's chest tighten in anger.

It's unfair, he tells himself. Scraps hasn't been implicated in anything, and the way Kent's acting with him means they're on good terms. Have a good relationship. Are friends. He still finds himself saying, "We didn't get a chance to meet. In Vegas." 

Scraps's face drops. Snowy feels like an asshole, because Scraps might be a dumb lug, but he doesn't miss the tone or the implication. Taking a dig at him should shouldn't feel so good, but it does.

"You--" Scraps starts, then addresses Kent instead. "Parser." It's quiet, but full of feeling. Like he's trying to communicate something he doesn't have words for, but really needs Kent to get.

"Yeah," Kent says. Entirely like he knows what Scraps means.

Snowy pops the tab on his beer and moves further into the kitchen, away from where the combined mass of Kent and Scraps is blocking the doorway, but after a few seconds Kent follows and then Scraps follows him, lagging a step behind and dragging his feet, hesitant like he's waiting for cues. When Kent doesn't take a seat, he doesn't either. It's weird for a dom.

Scraps plays with his still unopened can, his thumb catching the tab then letting it slide off the pad, making a low twanging sound. "I'm sorry," he says, looking at Snowy, but his gaze slides to Kent right after, and then away, back to the can tab he's fiddling with. Snowy's _seen_ him smack guys into the boards without hesitation, but it's hard to picture it at the moment.

"I didn't know, Parser," Scraps says, without looking up. Surprisingly direct for a guy who can't seem to sustain eye contact for more than three seconds at a time. "I really didn't."

Kent quirks a weird smile. Like he's going for reassuring, but is tripping over sixteen other things trying to get there. "I know," he says. "It's fine."

"It's _fine_?" Snowy echoes. He sounds harder than he means to. Angry instead of incredulous. "How did you not know? How could you not _know_?" 

Because Scraps isn't suspicious that way, or because he took his cues from Kent and _Kent_ had been turned around and also hiding anything he felt unsure about. _Snowy_ hadn't been alarmed the year he'd been with the Aces, and it didn't seem like Troy had thought anything was off during his run either. Scraps had been there longer and through the increasing mess at the end, but it's not like anyone had worked anything out so much as the As had gotten sloppy and unlucky.

"You were there the whole time," Snowy says anyway. "It was right under your nose." He shouldn't be saying it. He hasn't even said that much to Kent. Not in the form of an actual discussion.

"I don't know," Scraps says, and the can makes a popping, crunching noise as his thumb pushes a dent into it. His brow knots up in thought, making his eyes look even more shadowed as he looks at Kent. "You were in my room all the time on roadies."

"It's okay, Scrappy," Kent repeats. His voice sounds weird. Hoarse, maybe. 

Scrappy pats him, barely touching. Just brushing over that bit of hair that always sticks up weirdly from Kent's head, frowning like he disagrees, but doesn't want to say so. That's probably another reason he hadn't worked anything out--the reluctance to go against Kent. Maybe that had extended to not looking at things if Kent tried to steer him away.

"I wanted to see you," Scrappy goes on, turning the can a little in one hand and pushing his thumb into it again, collapsing the metal right along the edge where the cylinder starts to narrow. "In Vegas. After--you know. After everything." He takes his free hand off Kent to make a helpless gesture, then explains to Snowy. "They're investigating. All the guys on the team." He shrugs. Turns the can some more, just a half inch or so. "Until they were done with us, we weren't supposed to. They said to stay away."

It's a good reason for his absence. Meant to protect Kent--and the franchise, and the league--until guilty parties could be weeded out. It doesn't make Snowy want to fight Scraps any less. All the honest emotion on his face is just making him seem even more punchable.

"I swear I didn't know," Scraps says again, this time to Snowy, holding his gaze, and _there's_ the kind of dom he is. Direct, insistent. He might come off like a big idiot, but Snowy's suddenly sure he'd get nowhere if he tried to push Scraps somewhere he wasn't willing to go. Snowy's probably an asshole for trying to pick a fight with him then, because the fact that he's entertaining the accusations at all means that guilt _is_ a road Scraps is ready to go down. Maybe Snowy's just grinding in ideas that he's had himself. If anyone tried to do to Kent what he's trying to do to Scraps, Snowy would murder them.

Still. Right under his nose, and even through the worst parts of it. Even though things had clearly been unraveling for a while. 

Snowy huff his breath out and leans his head against the heel of his hand. He's jonesing for a fight so bad that for all his concerns about the upcoming season, it suddenly seems way too far away. He's sure Tater could instigate something for him to get in on. Maybe even right by his goal for maximum efficiency, if they were anywhere near a game day.

"How were you gonna know?" Kent asks Scraps, his voice soft. He glances at Snowy, stealing a quick look, but not making eye contact with either of them. Somehow, his volume drops even lower to admit, "You weren't supposed to know."

"But I still should've--"

"I didn't want you to." Kent looks up at him and smiles a little. Shrugs. Like it's no big deal, or like he'd messed up a play, but is sure he can make up for it next shift. "It's not your fault. I could have just told you, and I didn't." It's an echo of the shit people are sending his twitter--if Kent didn't want it, why had he kept quiet; Kent hadn't said anything, so why blame the team and the league for something he'd been complicit in. 

Scraps is looking at Kent with an expression Snowy's sure he's been wearing a lot himself. A sort of mix of disbelief, annoyance, and horror. Kent tries to push past the reaction by grinning at him, then gives up and looks away again with another little shrug, that sulky expression finding its way back onto his face. Snowy sighs at the sight of it, but Scraps looks surprised before he settles his hand on Kent's head again, ruffling carefully.

"How's the team?" Kent asks, changing the subject but not ducking out from under Scraps's hand. A lot easier with him than he'd been with Guy, but not going down or hazing out either. He also doesn't seem to be worried about letting Snowy see it, even though that would make more sense than the way he'd worried about Snowy's own teammates doing the same. "Swoops is coming back."

"Straight to an A," Scraps agrees. "Carl's pissed. He says we're all being spanked." His tone is light, and Kent smiles at it.

"Well," Scraps says. "We should be." He reaches past Kent to put his can down on the counter, misshapen but still unopened, and even though Kent had refused, he picks it up, pops the tab, then has to slurp when foam froths up to spill over the edge and drip down his fingers. Scraps frowns at him. "Even if it won't change anything."

"So what you're saying," Kent says, wiping his chin with the back of a hand, and then drying the side of the can on his t-shirt. "Is that the whole team is having sub feelings."

"Except Carly," Snowy adds. Scraps twitches a smile in response, but it's still mainly aimed at Kent.

"Shit," Kent says. "I should--I don't know. Do something." He looks at Snowy, trying for a grin again. "Other than hide out and annoy Providence, I mean."

Neither of them say anything to that, and after the silence drags on, Kent lets the act drop, sighing heavily and putting Scraps's beer back down. "I didn't mean to hurt the team," he says, serious. His eyes look dark and dull with the way his head is bowed, tipping his face away from the light. "I just didn't want you to know." Snowy's not sure if he means Scraps in particular, or if he's just phrasing it that way but has some broader idea of _you_ in mind. 

Scraps doesn't answer, busy looking at Kent like he's trying to decode him.

"It's--you know." Kent fidgets, shifting his weight, then settles down, but chews at the inside of his cheek. Snowy gets the feeling that he's not in the habit of lying to Scraps, or even of side-stepping him. Scraps hasn't even asked anything, and it looks like Kent feels compelled to give him answers.

"You didn't hurt anything," Snowy says, trying to sound calmer than he feels.

Kent nods, but he doesn't look up and he still tells Scraps, "You'd know I wasn't good." He makes an awkward movement with his hands, starting to gesture, then aborting halfway through, then scratches at his arm instead, where the sleeve of his t-shirt is trailing a thread. "If I told you." He snorts, self-deprecating. Like he knows how stupid it sounds. 

Scraps's expression goes neutral. Or what might pass as neutral, for him. It's still pretty transparent. "You thought I'd--"

"I mean, I didn't think it through," Kent interrupts. "I didn't--Of course I didn't think _you_ would--" He stops, not even sure what it is he'd thought Scraps wouldn't do, or think, then tries to buy him off with a grin. It's too pathetic to convince anyone.

"Aw, Parser." It's not what Snowy would have said, but Kent responds to it, losing the brittle edge and making a derisive noise to brush away Scraps's sympathy. Scraps doesn't look bothered by it, just waiting Kent out until he decides to quit talking or continue.

Kent hesitates, then stumbles on, not looking at either of them. The evasiveness makes him look a little cornered. "I know we have, like, a Cup--"

Scraps laughs at the rounding-down, and Kent smiles a little in response, then lets the expression slide away and admits, "But I couldn't do anything else right." He lets his breath out in a shaky exhale. "With doms, I always--And you didn't see it, so--"

Scraps drops an arm around him, then uses it to push him towards Snowy, steering him far enough across the kitchen that Kent ends up drawn the rest of the way to Snowy on his own, until he's close enough to slide down into a kneel, smooth and perfect before he winces and unfolds, shifting onto his butt to save his knee. Snowy can't imagine Kent trying at something and failing as badly as he thinks he had, or what kind of dom wouldn't appreciate the way Kent tries, just for itself, even if he ends up falling short on some of the specifics. The thought of making Kent think that as an intentional game, played to put him off his balance, makes Snowy's throat feel tight all the down into his chest. He can feel Kent shivering a little against his leg, just faintly like he's coming down from an adrenaline rush, and puts his hand in Kent's hair in case more contact helps calm him down.

"Those idiots wouldn't know a good sub if one hit them in the face," Scraps says. He sounds dangerous, suddenly, when the whole time he'd mostly been coming off as friendly and goofy, mostly, underneath the guilt and upset. It's a good thing Snowy hadn't tried to pick an actual fight with him, and maybe especially over Kent, because it looks like Scraps isn't just worn thin over him, but worn to an edge and maybe looking for something to fight himself.

If that's the case, he's been a lot more restrained about it than Snowy. That, or Snowy just hadn't pushed the right button.

Scraps gets down, lowering himself to one knee, so that he's more or less on Kent's level, his face serious as he looks at Kent. His sad frown has turned into something more intent. "Fuck them, Parser. I'd never believe you're not good. Snowy either, right?"

"Yeah," Snowy says. Kent's eyes are still down, but Snowy can tell he's listening, tuning in to Scraps's tone like a dial being turned. "You're so fucking good, you're a hazard to be around."

Kent lets his breath out in a long huff, but it's not scorn or bravado. Kent might tend to being a show-offy brat sometimes, but not right on the heels of coveted praise. It sounds a lot more like he's trying to center himself. Push out tension, take deep breaths. Snowy presses his fingertips a little firmer through Kent's hair, rubbing his head, keeping him aware of Snowy's presence.

Scraps looks like he wants to touch--like he's used to touching, maybe, when Kent's upset or looking like a sub and not covering well enough--but he keeps his hands to himself, one arm resting easily over his bent knee. "They didn't deserve to have you," he says, and then, at an even lower volume, "We'd never have played for them." The _if we knew_ goes unspoken, but Scraps looks weighed down by the thought. Like Snowy, he's probably been churning over the failure ever since that night in the hotel, and even if he'd had a closer vantage point, maybe that just meant he'd been _too_ close. His perspective distorted by being in the thick of it with Kent, seeing him day to day and game to game. Maybe putting anything out of the ordinary down to a bad hit, a hard loss. Maybe just thinking that Kent being off now and then _was_ ordinary for him. Snowy shouldn't have started shit, taking digs at a guy who's clearly Kent's friend. Scraps didn't need to defend his innocence, and Kent really hadn't needed to be put in a position where he thought he had to explain himself.

"Fuck," Snowy says, and takes his hand off Kent's head to scrub it over his face. "You get a free pass the next time you want to be a shit to Jack," he tells Kent. "Fair's fair." He drops his hand, wincing when it flops harder than he'd meant against the table. "Or Tater. You feel like fighting Tater?"

Kent leans his head against Snowy's knee, but raises his head a little to look at Scraps. Snowy can't see what expression he's making, but Scraps smiles at it, small, but warm, some sort of insider communication passing between him and Kent. "Don't fight Mashkov," Scraps says. "Please, Parser. Because then _I_ have to fight Mashkov." It sounds like a comment he's made before, maybe every other time Kent had tried to buzz Snowy's goal, then had to hightail it out of enemy territory.

He hadn't just been bratting at Snowy, but at Scraps, antagonizing both of them along with half the Falconers' bench. Kent's a fucking handful. Picturing a younger, even more awkward Zimmermann trying to manage him makes Snowy want to either laugh or cry, torn between the mental image and the way things had turned out. Zimmermann probably wouldn't know what to do with being pushed that way, and Kent wouldn't know how _not_ to, if a dom kept giving up ground. 

Or, Kent might back off, but then he'd be in control, and that wouldn't be good for anyone. No wonder Kent was so backwards on everything, and maybe that was why things between him and Jack were so weird and tense. Snowy should talk to both of them. Get his head out of his own ass and face the whole thing dead-on the way he would an oncoming puck, instead of waiting for Kent to take the lead or for someone else to trip across him in a bad mood and set something in motion, like Scraps had.

"You want to get off the floor?" Snowy asks, playing with Kent's hair again. "That tile's got to be hard on your ass." He's pretty sure Kent won't take him up on it. It's hard to decide exactly what kind to sub Kent is, between the eager to please willingness, the competitive drive and the tendency to be a pest. He'd be a ton of fun if no one had ever gotten to him and turned handling him into a minefield instead of just a challenge.

"If that leg stiffens up, you're really going to enjoy PT tomorrow," Snowy goes on, in case Kent's forgotten about that, but he lets Kent stay where he is. It's nice to have him there, at Snowy's feet, even if the exact circumstances this time were a little shitty, and mostly because of Snowy's doing.

Kent makes a soft noise, like he's also happy to stay, then changes his mind and straightens a little. "Okay. Let's move. Scrappy's gonna tip over if he sits like that any longer."

Scraps makes an exasperated noise, but he straightens, then reaches to help Kent up, practically setting him on his feet before he slings a companionable arm around his shoulders. Then he looks at Snowy like they're all pals, and they're waiting on him to get his shit together and tag along with them.

Scraps is a magnanimous guy, already letting things be bygones. It sucks about him.

"How many more of you are going to show up here?" Snowy asks. "Is the whole team going to wander through?"

"Some of them might. As they get cleared." Scraps makes a face. "I can tell them not to." He looks down at Kent. "No one's telling us shit, and you know how Swoops is when you ask him stuff. Like a fucking secret agent. 'I can't say anything. I have to check with Parser'. Everyone's just--" He raises his hand a little, without lifting his arm from Kent's shoulders, then lets it drop again. Then he presses his cheek against the top of Kent's head, and lets him go, retrieving his dented beer can from the counter.

Playing the Aces is going to suck if they're feeling protective and fighty. They're going to take it to blows anytime someone so much as looks like they're making a wrong move towards Kent.

It's a relief. Snowy actually feels better about the season and having Kent play with the Aces again, thinking that anyone who gets out of line will have to deal with Scraps. He's still going to talk shit about him to Guy, though. Maybe see if he can get Tater to rough him up a little too if he gets a chance, just because.

"I wanted to make sure he was okay," Scraps says, hesitating in the kitchen doorway. Talking to Snowy now. "In Vegas. Management said we'd mess things up for Parser, and Carly said he'd be okay with you."

"You took advice from Carly?"

Scraps huffs a laugh and shrugs, a little helplessly, like he can't explain it either. "He might be yours now," he says, not answering the question. "But we won't miss something like this again."

There's a chance that's meant to be a threat, but Snowy says, "I'm fucking counting on it," anyway.


End file.
